Stepping Lightly Into A New Culture

April 12, 1994|By Jon Anderson, Tribune Staff Writer.

Once again, with great solemnity, just before their daily workout in the empty basement ballroom of the Fireside Inn and Banquet Center on North Waukegan Road, Gregory Vayner starts to tell the sad story of the Zabava folk dancers and musicians and their long trek from Minsk to Morton Grove.

It is a tale that involves the vagaries of show business, the collapse of international communism and a certain number of miscalculations. "I never did this before," says Vayner, by way of explanation. "But now I have this troupe here-21 people-and I look at myself in the mirror and I say, `You did it.' "

The good news: Zabava will get a rare chance to do its show Saturday at the Copernicus Center, 5216 W. Lawrence Ave., Chicago. A portion of the proceeds will benefit children who were radiation victims of the 1986 nuclear reactor disaster in Chernobyl, upwind from the troupe's homeland of Belarus.

The bad news . . . ah, where to begin?

Perhaps with a phone call, a year ago, from Minsk to Skokie. From Sergei Shadun, the artistic director of Zabava, to Vayner, a former dancer who immigrated to America 16 years ago and found work in the taxi business, recruiting drivers and arranging for medallions.

"Sergei said, `Gregory, can I do something with you?' " recalled Vayner. "He said he wanted to break with the government and stage his own show, the first private show in Belarus. I flew to Minsk. I saw tapes of Zabava. My hair stood up. I came home, put up $50,000 of my own money, set up a company, G & S Free Enterprise, and lined up eight bookings for them in Russian clubs (in the U.S.)."

The initials stand for Gregory and Sergei. The rest of the name mirrors the dream-that Zabava could rise above the collapse of state sponsorship of the arts in the former Soviet Union, fly to America and tour indefinitely.

"I used to dance with his brother in the same show, in Minsk. The purpose of this show is to exchange culture between Belarus and the United States," said Vayner, speaking of Shadun and of his homeland, an area east of Poland, between Lithuania and Ukraine, of hilly lowlands with forests, swamps and numerous rivers emptying into the Baltic and the Black Seas.

Cool reception

Things started well. A Minsk entrepreneur, Evan Makkovsky, underwrote costumes and startup costs. Zabava arrived in Chicago on Jan. 7. The flight was fine. But, because of visa problems, they got here a week behind schedule. What they found, in America, was a less-than-big hello.

All eight club owners, fearing Zabava might not show up at all, had lined up other acts. Agents contacted by Vayner said there might be something next season, but not now. "At first," Vayner admits, "it was shocking. But I told them, `Nobody believed you could get to the United States. You did it. Now, we must prove ourselves to the American people.' Of course, they were upset."

Six of the dancers moved into Vayner's three-bedroom house in Skokie.

"It's a little tight," he said. "I have a wife, three kids, a dog and three bedrooms, but we have a full basement."

More complicated was finding work.

Like dancers everywhere, members of Zabava had to practice every day to remain limber. They also needed food and, for most of them, cigarettes.

"I called my friend Vladimir (Tarmobolsky)," Vayner said. "He owns his own club in Glenview, the Restaurant Metropole. He booked us for 12 shows, on Friday, Saturday and Sunday brunch. Thirty minutes only. Didn't pay much, but we had the time."

A place to practice

With no money for promotion, hardly anyone came. But one who heard about Zabava was Eugene Boris, owner of the Fireside complex. At the urging of Vayner and others, he asked the group to audition. "Boris," as Vayner recalls it, "looked at the show and became crazy."

Boris remembered, in an interview, that "halfway through the audition, I told them, `Stop. Do not audition for me anymore.' Then (after a dramatic pause) I said, `You are hired.'

"They are very cultural, very top-notch people," said Boris, noting that, in the past, he has booked Zsa Zsa Gabor and a singing son of Mario Lanza to appear at his restaurant complex and 60-room inn. "I like them, even though I am from Poland and we've had lots of trouble with Russians.

"I offered to support them and try to connect them to various people who will help them," Boris said. "I will do so for the rest of the year."

A dozen Zabava members moved into six rooms at his inn. They have been living there for six weeks. He provided food and rehearsal space; they started with four shows a week. But that got cut to two when, lamentably, once again, few patrons showed up. "Eugene, he's got a big heart," Vayner said. "He gives us food and rooms. He takes care of us. He calls friends."